


Moritz Stiefel doesn't cry.

by definitelynotmoritzstiefel



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Whump, please read at your own risk, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 11:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitelynotmoritzstiefel/pseuds/definitelynotmoritzstiefel
Summary: "Yes, Moritz Stiefel was nervous. Moritz Stiefel had bruises and cuts, Moritz Stiefel fell asleep in class as much as he fell behind. But Moritz Stiefel didn’t cry."AU where Moritz attempts to kill himself by slitting his wrists. Trigger warning. Frau Gabor tries to save the day because who else could?





	Moritz Stiefel doesn't cry.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! 
> 
> This is my very first fic, so please be nice and let me know if you like it!  
> Trigger warning applies for suicide and serious angst.  
> Enjoy!  
> \- Nathan

“Okay, we need to get him inside quick! Quick!” There was clear distress in Frau Gabor’s voice as she ushered her son and the two townsmen, who were carrying a 17 year old boy, inside; one holding the arms, one holding the legs.

The blood just dripping.

Melchior usually wasn’t the one to be lost for words, yet now, he stood there speechless, watching as his mother lead the men – who he recognized to be the priest and a local farmer – towards the table, where they put down the trembling frame of what once was Moritz Stiefel.

Melchior stood and watched, without speaking, without as much as breathing. His mother was giving curt orders to the townsmen now, clearly not taking no for an answer, and the men followed them blindly. One took off to seek help at the doctor’s office three blocks away before he could catch his breath, the other applied pressure where Frau Gabor told him to, as she wrapped anything in the close proximity – from towels to ripped pieces of freshly washed sheets to the linen belt of her own dress – around Moritz’s flowing wrists. Melchior had his eyes fixed on his mother’s shaking hands while they spun the linen round and round and it wasn’t until he heard the sound that came from the table that he snapped out of his trance.

A sob.

Within seconds he had reached the table, now holding Moritz’s cold hand very tightly; talking to him in a hushed voice: “I am right here, Moritz, I am right here with you.” Moritz’s sobs continued to grow louder and he stuttered in between them, blurting out words that did not make sense; the only thing that Melchior could make out clearly was ‘father’.  
“Your father is a fool, Moritz, a damn fool,” Melchior breathed as he gently removed Moritz’s hair from his eyes; it was wet and icy. Freezing cold.

Moritz was crying; Melchior could barely fathom it. Yes, Moritz Stiefel was nervous. Moritz Stiefel had bruises and cuts, Moritz Stiefel fell asleep in class as much as he fell behind. But Moritz Stiefel didn’t cry.

“Mama – we need to get him to warm up, he’s –” Moritz squeezed his eyes shut tightly when Frau Gabor tightened the bandage on his left wrist and briefly let out a raw, throaty noise,  but the priest swiftly stuffed a cotton handkerchief into his mouth before more sound could come out. He bit the fabric with as much force as he had left in his body, sobbed into it, groaned at the pain of his wrists and the pain in his mind, but Melchior did not let go of him.  
“Moritz, I need you here. You can’t – listen to me, Moritz – Moritz –”  
  
Frau Gabor looked up from her fingers to the boy’s face and kneeled down ever so slightly, eventually raising a blood stained hand up to Moritz’s face, caressing his cheek. “Sweetheart, can you hear me? Moritz?” Her voice was so soft that Melchior could barely understand.  
Moritz briefly opened his eyes and his mouth; the cotton dropped down.  
“I know that you are in a lot of pain right now, but you will be alright. I need you to hang in there, just like you are doing, love.”  
  
The door swung open with a rather hauntingly creaky noise and Moritz spun his head around, his eyes big. Frau Gabor looked back and somehow even managed to crack a smile.  
“Doctor Neumann, how nice of you to come at such an inconvenient time.”  
  
Melchior saw Moritz’s chest start to rise and fall quicker. New tears glistened in his eyes as he shook his head vigorously and his breaths and sobs merged into one panicked last attempt at taking in air.  
The doctor quickly got started on the left wrist, without speaking; just his needle, the cloth and some alcohol to disinfect. No one spoke. There was tension in the air that almost sounded like static, as if every single movement disturbed it. It was only broken by Moritz’s quick breaths, interrupted by his gravelly voice as he stammered and pulled at his shoulder to stop it from hurting, and right when the needle pierced the skin there on his left wrist, the priest put the cotton back in Moritz’s mouth.

And Moritz screamed.

It was a short, rasping scream laced with sobs. Yet muffled, it was a scream that gave Melchior chills. He stepped back. Never had he witnessed anything quite so raw – so painful. His chest ached as he continued to move further back and it dawned on him; he was losing Moritz Stiefel.

His mother kept a sense of calm that he admired greatly, yet he had no time to appreciate it as his heart raced in his chest and his hands grew clammy. Frau Gabor did not as much as flinch at Moritz’s crying. She sat down on a chair next to the table – that the priest pulled up as she gestured – so that she was now facing the boy directly. Moritz gritted his teeth around the cloth and turned his head to face her; his bottom lip trembled in a failed attempt at keeping his tears at bay. Melchior could see his mother’s lips moving, yet he did not hear what she said. All he could do was quietly watch as Frau Gabor whispered to Moritz, watch her left hand pressing the blood-soaked cloth firmly into his right wrist, and watch her right gently wipe the tears off  his cheeks.

Melchior moved closer again, step by step, towards his friend, who looked paler than ever before, with dark bags under his eyes and frost-bitten skin. Moritz had almost calmed down at this point, but the quiet was somehow more unsettling than the panic. He had stopped wriggling and instead rested his head on Frau Gabor’s hand, her thumb still catching the tears before they could hit the mahogany of the table. His breathing had steadied, but still came in short, shallow sobs. The doctor let the needle slide through the cut once more and Moritz flinched, flicking his head rapidly to the left, but Frau Gabor’s whispers grew louder and clearer, snapping him out of it. Moritz took a deep shaky breath and let his head drop into her hand again. His eyes rolled back.

“That’s more like it,” Frau Gabor said softly. “Stay here now, you are doing so well, Moritz. I’m so proud of you.”

The doctor gave him no time to catch his breath before moving to the other wrist. Moritz bit his lip. He squinted his eyes in an attempt to focus, but his head dropped back down into Frau Gabor’s hand and he quietly whispered, his voice throaty and thick with tears:

“It hurts.”

“I know,” Frau Gabor replied quietly. “I know, sweetheart, but you’re doing so well.”

The doctor then stood up quickly. His face did not show any emotion. “Done already?” was all Frau Gabor said, her voice thin. He nodded. Melchior expected a sigh of relief, yet neither his mom nor the doctor seemed to feel relieved.

Frau Gabor busied herself trying to keep the shivering boy awake, whispering and stroking his hair and patting his cheek.  
“Hey, Moritz, sweetheart, you are doing great. You’re alright. Listen to me. Sweetheart?”  
Moritz barely opened his eyes.  
“I am so proud of you, Moritz. So proud,” Frau Gabor whispered.

It was then that Melchior saw it, the one thing that made him loose hope: a single tear rolled down his mother’s cheek, before she quickly wiped it away and repeated those same words again and again to Moritz. As if she wished that that was the last thing he heard.

Melchior stood next to the table shakily, watching his friend’s blood slowly pool on the floor.  
“Mama, we have to warm him up – or – or at least –”  
Frau Gabor looked over to the doctor, who had retreated to a corner of the room, but had not left. “What do you suggest, Herr Neumann?” Her voice quivered just the slightest bit. The doctor just shook his head.  
Melchior started. “No – no, there has to be something we can do! Let me – let –” He slid his hands underneath Moritz’s back and legs and tried to prop him up – but the priest stopped him.

“He’s gone, son.”

He put a friendly, almost condescending hand on his back. Melchior jerked away violently. “No, he’s not! He’s – he’s cold – we should – ”

Again, he attempted to lift his friend’s shaking body and almost succeeded. “Let’s get him in bed – right, mama? Let’s – let’s –”  
Frau Gabor put her hand on her son’s, who lowered Moritz back down on the table slightly.

Moritz’s eyes fluttered shut; he took a shallow, raspy breath.

“We did all we could, Melchior.” Melchior could feel the tears escape his eyes, but he tried to control his breath, inhaling sharply and exhaling shakily. He tightened his grip on Moritz’s arm and thigh. “Let’s get him in bed. He needs – he needs somewhere soft to stay.”

The adults surrounding him did not react, their heads all pointing down towards the floor. Only Frau Gabor looked him straight in the eye.

“Please, mama?” Melchior whispered. “He’s cold.”

Frau Gabor, biting her lip, hesitated - then nodded. It took all of their combined force to move Moritz to the other room, where Frau Gabor tucked him into bed up to his neck. The only things still poking from under the covers were his face and his hand.

It was frankly all that was left of Moritz Stiefel.

Melchior looked over to the doctor. He didn’t ask; he was too afraid of the answer. Instead, he just stared. Herr Neumann’s voice was low when he answered Melchior’s gaze:

“If he’s strong, he might make it to the morning.”

Melchior was the only one who didn’t move, not even after 15 minutes, when his mother escorted the doctor and the farmer out of the room to the front door, where he could still hear their hushed voices. The priest stayed.

It was eerily quiet in the room and the sounds of Melchior’s soft sobs almost echoed. He wanted nothing more than to just be alone, to be left alone by everyone but by Moritz.

Not by Moritz.

“I know you don’t want to hear this –” the priest started, but Melchior cut him short.  
“No, I don’t,” he snapped. “I don’t want to hear at all.”

He made little effort to hide his anger. His hands were shaking and his vision was blurred by tears. The priest did not reply, but slowly started making his way to the door, leaving Melchior and Moritz alone, finally, but before exiting, he turned around.

“Son, what I was saying was that...”  
Melchior didn’t turn around, but he didn’t interrupt him either.  
“- that if there really is a God out there – a good God, somewhere up there... then I know He would do anything to keep that boy alive.” His voice was low.

“Remember it’s not God that is cruel – it’s the people who think they know Him.”

The creaking of the floorboards faded and Melchior could feel his body starting to break down slowly. He dropped down to his knees next to the bed, swiftly taking over the priest’s previous job of keeping pressure on the stitches on the left wrist, placing a dull, overdue kiss on Moritz’s hand and – without letting go – folded his together, for once in his life seeking comfort in the only option he had left, for once in his life praying to God in the Heavens above.

Praying that Moritz Stiefel had not given up.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it. The idea came from the fact that the Frau Gabor-Moritz relationship was never truly portrayed in the musical, and I think Frau Gabor is clearly very important to him and she loves him like a son. So obviously, when Moritz tries to kill himself, Frau Gabor is the first one to be there, determined to fix it, and the only one who remains calm. 
> 
> Please give me feedback! 
> 
> \- Nathan


End file.
